


i'm only human, i do what i can [i'm only human, i'm just a man]

by pagan_mint



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, CIA!Reese, F/M, John Reese Was Abused In The CIA, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence, Past Abuse, Torture, Wingfic, sorry Reese, subtle Kara/John/Mark if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagan_mint/pseuds/pagan_mint
Summary: and, burned because i beauty loved,i shall not know the highest bliss,and give my name to the abysswhich waits to claim me as its own.-laments of an icarus,charles baudelaire





	i'm only human, i do what i can [i'm only human, i'm just a man]

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "human" by rag'n'bone man
> 
> I wrote something where reese had wings and then I decided this was the only part I liked 
> 
> ((but I might come back and post the second part later idk))

John Reese had wings, once. And then Kara Stanton ripped them from his back, cutting and peeling with a scalpel not as sharp as it should have been, while Mark Snow stood by and impassively flipped his attention between the two agents and the pages of a dog-eared paperback.

“The garbage they write these days,” he murmured impassively. A dry sob tore itself from Reese’s throat and fell to the tile floor, drowning in the blood pooling stagnant on top of the linoleum. “It’s a shame we’ve lived to see the death of modern literature.”

“We can use it to mop up the mess,” Kara said humorously. She twitched the scalpel; it cut through a nerve and left John howling, the heels of his hands skidding through scarlet-stained feathers as he scraped for purchase, for something, anything to hold on to, distract him from the pain. His bloody fingers got too close to Mark’s shoes, brown and leather and brand new; almost absently, Mark lifted the toe of one and then set it back down, crushing slowly with his full weight. Reese could barely feel it; the sensation was nothing compared to what was going on between his shoulderblades.

“Mark,” Kara reprimanded, “he needs those to work,” and the older man reluctantly eased off, stepping away. He turned a page in the paperback, smiling at whatever he saw there. Kara hummed, the sound soft.

“Almost there, John,” she cooed. Her voice was so soft, so kind, the way it always was when she was doing something inconceivably cruel. “Almost there.”

It could have been moments or hours later, Reese couldn't tell. All he knew was that Kara tugged, and then tugged harder, and finally _dragged_  with force, and he was screaming and flashing in and out of consciousness -- but then it was over, and he was shirtless and bloody and gasping on the floor of a cheap hotel bathroom in Karkut, gazing empty and unseeing at the baseboards as he twitched and shuddered on the tiles.

Something hit the floor nearby, and Mark stepped over his body and bent to inspect it. “Ew,” he said, nudging the mass of feathers and tendons with his foot. “You couldn’t have done this a little more cleanly, Kara?”

“You wanna make an omelet, you gotta break some eggs,” Kara said, and then seemed to realize that Reese was still conscious. “Hey, John. Sorry about that. But they’re too high-profile, and I mean, it’s not like we could go to the hospital for this.” She laughed. “Really, they should have gotten rid of them for you back at the agency.”

“It’s fine,” Mark said. “This is good for him. Not that there are that many of his kind, but I’ve heard that even during a proper surgical procedure, getting their wings removed is one of the most painful things they can experience. Unless he gets caught by someone particularly creative, he’s fit to withstand almost any torture now.”

Reese trembled, and to his horror he saw his wings do the same, twitching and flopping a little to match his movements.

“That’s disgusting,” Kara groaned. “God, it’s like beheading a chicken. Mark, you wanna bag and dump ‘em? I’ll get this sad sack cleaned up.” She knelt down, pulling Reese to his feet, and he was mortified at the whimpers and whines of pain that he couldn't seem to keep from making.

“You’re alright, big guy. Come on. You’re fine.” He got one foot under himself, but his knees were week, his feet bare, and he slipped in his own blood. Kara huffed out an irritated breath as his knee banged hard against the floor.

“Come _on_ , John, get it together. I need the big tough CIA agent, not the baby Boy Scout.”

It was an immense effort, but he stood on his own two feet, let her help him into the bathtub, where he braced himself against the wall and tried not to cry out as she turned on the shower. Cold water ran into the gashes on his back, washing new and old blood down his body and into the drain.

“There you go,” Kara murmured. “We’ll get you stitched up and you’ll be like new.” Reaching up, she patted him on the cheek. “You’re just a boring old human now, John. Not some avenging angel of justice. Now you’re stuck here on Earth with the rest of us."

Her voice sounded impossibly kind. In the background, there was the rustle and  _snap_ of Mark opening a trash bag.

Still trembling, not trusting himself to say anything, Reese closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading please like comment and subscribe for more fics similar to this one!!!


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